My Blood Is Yours (The Summoning #1)

8. Sariel

SARIEL

T he scent of flower petals draw me from another deep, black, dreamless sleep. My head throbs, and my equilibrium whirls as I attempt to sit up. The rattling of chains has my panic surging through me, despite the drugs they’ve given me. The harder my heart pumps, the faster it pushes the toxins through my system, and clears my head. Their drugs aren’t affecting me as they did before. I may feel like I’ve taken an anvil to the head, but I can see straight. Straight enough to take in the sight of manacles clasped around my wrists and ankles. Long, thick chains—like those used to anchor a boat—shackle me to the wall. I can still move enough to stand and perhaps reach the bucket, which I’m assuming is intended for me to utilize when my body demands it. Thankfully, such an occurrence isn’t as frequent as a mortal's, considering I only need to eat but once every few days and consume blood just as infrequently.

Heavy bootsteps announce Evandriel’s arrival. Fuck. Before the doctor had put another bullet in my brain, I thought I’d killed him. He gives me a pleased look. “Let’s play nice today, shall we? I promise you, it’s in your best interest.”

I don’t bother to reply—can do scarcely more than breathe. She perfumes the air around me, even if I can’t see her yet, and while I am enraged that they have dragged her into this hell, I am so very selfishly breathless with anticipation at finally being able to lay my eyes on her. And angry that her first time seeing me will be in this state. They’ve taken everything from me—including the mundrapedra— even the adornments from my horns, except for the gold caps and rings, which I assume they only failed to remove, along with the gold cuffs around my biceps, which are magicked in place to prevent them from constantly shifting.

My ears prick, twitching at the sound of soft footsteps. Evandriel leans closer to the bars of the cell, dropping his voice so that only I can hear him. “You came here looking for her didn’t you? That’s why you were in his house.”

Evandriel pulls something from his pocket, and my eyes widen in horror at the sight of my family’s heirloom perched between his thumb and forefinger.

“Does it have something to do with this? Is this how you got here? I can feel the magic coming off it in waves, and I know daemons weren’t gifted portal magic. Though I do know they have another gift. One that leads them to their mates. What do your people call them again?” Evandriel’s eyes light up, and he snaps his fingers. “ Soulbound , no?”

Outside of the grinding of my teeth, I remain silent.

Evandriel’s voice drops to whisper. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the doctor.” A few moments later, soft footsteps—closely followed by heavier ones—echo off the stone walls. The scent of flower petals grows stronger, and despite my nightmareish circumstances, I find my cock and knot thickening at the smell of her.

I haven’t met many humans in my life. In Vassileo—where I had spent my entire existence before the realm was torn open by the Goddess of Rebirth, now the Queen of Atratus—they were exceedingly rare.

Here in Atratus, where we now reside, humans are more common. Still, my interactions with them have been scarce.

A metallic cranking noise grates my ears as Evandriel begins to turn the wheel connected to the chains of my shackles until I’m pulled closer to the wall—but not against it. I can still lift and move my arms, but my range of motion is greatly hindered. I’m left standing above a drain, just opposite the bed pallet.

My breath ceases. Finally, long, wavy brown hair, pale skin, and rosy cheeks greet me through dark eyes framed in long black lashes. Something bitter, albeit faint, spikes the air. Fear.

My voice is gravelly from disuse and roaring my rage before the doctor subdued me with another bullet.

“I will not harm you.”

My soulbound’s delicate throat dips, though she doesn’t reply. Instead, her eyes dart around the cell with increasing horror.

The doctor stands behind her. “Oh good, then I can skip reminding you of the fact that if you attempt to harm her, I won’t hesitate to put another bullet in your brain. No matter how many times it insists on spitting them back out.”

As if entirely unconcerned with her own well-being, she turns to him with a horrified expression. “These living conditions are utterly inhumane.”

Forsythe only gives her a haughty look. “Well, he can hardly be considered human, now can he?”

Her jaw drops before snapping shut, petite jaw clenching in anger. “I will not work for someone who treats his subjects cruelly.”

Forsythe’s pale cheeks redden, and it becomes imminently clear that the male has a hard time controlling the beast inside him. Before our eyes, he grows an inch or two in size as he tries to stifle the shift. The muscles of his lithe arms and legs swell until his clothing is stretched thin, his fists clench with barely restrained rage. To my surprise, the female staring indignantly up at him doesn’t cower.

In an instant, I’m halfway across the room, shackles biting into my flesh, the metal groaning in protest. “Lay a hand on her, and so help me Akash, I will tear your head from your body.”

Forsythe’s fear scent poisons the air as he takes in the sight of my seven-and-a-half-foot-tall form: towering horns, wings flared wide, tail thrashing angrily behind me, muscles bulging, and claws extended.

He steps back, drawing in a deep breath to compose himself as he hastily pulls out a cloth to dab at his forehead, eyes flicking away from me. “Break those chains free of that wall, and you risk the whole building collapsing on us.”

My soulbound is clearly not one for self-preservation. Her gaze remains glued to him. “He needs a bed. A proper one. Clean clothing. And access to a toilet and bath.”

Forsythe’s jaw clenches so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t spit out shards of teeth. “You know, I find it awfully alarming how concerned you seem to be for the daemon’s well-being. One might even think you’ve inherited your mother’s lunacy.”

My mate’s breath catches. Sadness and anger seep from her as her voice drops to a whisper. “How dare you.”

The doctor’s lips purse with distaste. “I will have Evandriel retrieve what he can to make the daemon’s quarters more livable, but allow me to make myself clear, Elowen. If you do not prove yourself invaluable in this cause, then you will be proving yourself expendable. A liability. Do you understand?”

My own fear scent permeates the air, right alongside my rage.

If this male hadn’t already put an exceedingly short expiration date on his own life, he certainly has now and ensured it would be an unfathomably painful one.

Elowen turns toward my cell door, impatience radiating off of her. “Well, then, I better get started.”

Forsythe gives a huff, pulling out a set of keys before jamming one into the cell door. “Your first task is to bathe him, and while he’s still clean, I will need you to collect a tissue, semen, and blood sample. Evandriel will return shortly with your implements and further instruction.”

Evandriel’s expression is tight, but otherwise gives nothing away. Elowen’s heart rate leaps even as her jaws clench, turning to him. “Ensure the water is warm.”